


Is This Fear?

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark, M/M, Old-Timey AU?, Slightly graphic, Will's an honest angel, not really but kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never meant for this to happen; he'd always been so careful. With the wind in his ear and a dead man in his eyes, he wonders if this is what fear feels like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is This Fear?

He’d never meant for it to happen; he’d always been careful, careful enough to avoid detection. One slip, one miniscule mistake was all it took for the mob to appear outside his door, faces twisted in disgust and fury. Hannibal realizes he couldn’t fight his way out; the entire village had rallied around his cottage. Hannibal takes one last look around, not for the memory of how the house was now, but for the memory of what it had once been. The house is dead and empty now; the sun had forsaken it long ago. Calling up the house as it used it be, happy and alive, he holds out his wrists and sighs. Coarse rope is knotted around his arms, rough and unforgiving. Crawford yanks him into broad daylight, snarling all the way. Hannibal thought he saw tears in the man’s eyes before Crawford turns away from him and begins the walk he had made a year before from that exact cottage.

Hannibal freezes before he took a single step as the wind whispers in his ear, “ _Are you finally coming to see me? It’s been awfully lonely without you._ ” A long silent voice, sweet and calm, sends shivers down Hannibal’s spine. A hard tug on the rope pulls him out of his thoughts and he stumbles with the unexpected force.

Never in his life had he ever been caught unaware, and Crawford knows it, “The great Hannibal Lecter,” he taunted, “stumbling after one pull of the rope.” The crowd scoffs and snickers, pain and anguish making their anger run deeper than ever before. Crawford moves as close to Hannibal’s face as he could to be out of biting distance, and his mouth twists into something dark and hateful. Crawford sneers into Hannibal’s ear, “He never stumbled, you know, not once.” Hannibal knows it; he had watched him make this trek, fearful and confused, but steady on his feet nonetheless. Passed Crawford, Hannibal swears he saw a figure like smoke dart off towards his own final destination with a jaunty wave to follow him.

The mob moves and Hannibal moves with them, feet following of their own accord while Hannibal tries to follow the blurs of brown curls that disappear just when he goes to look at them. Though he tries to fight them, flashes of memories surface in his mind.

_“Hannibal?” Will cried out, fear etched into his features as he was pulled farther and farther away from his husband, “I didn’t do anything, you know it! Please, tell them!” Kaleidoscope eyes began to fill with tears as Hannibal watched Will be taken away for something Will had had no part in. Hannibal had never meant for this to happen. Still, he stared after the crowd with a blank face, turning away from Will’s increasingly desperate pleas, “Hannibal? Hannibal!”_

The sky is bright blue, so unlike the lackluster gray it had been for Will. The whole world had gone into mourning for him and now its rejoicing as Hannibal followed in Will’s footsteps. The smoky figure is stepping out of the scenery, solidifying into a young man with changeling eyes, curls the color of the chocolates he was so fond of, and the smile reserved for Hannibal. His mouth opens but does not form words. The wind serves him and carries his messages, “ _I made you a necklace just like mine. It only seemed fitting because you gave me this one.”_ Hannibal’s eyes flit down to Will’s neck, a tight rope collar resting there, and Hannibal knows if he looked farther down he would see a length of rope attached to it.

Will takes off at a run towards the tree. The tree isn’t very far from Hannibal’s cottage, but it seems like it was taking ages to reach it. Sweat starts to bead in Hannibal’s palms as his heart-rate picks up and Hannibal is mystified as he decides that it must be what fear felt like. As the procession grows nearer, Hannibal finally realizes what Will had meant by Hannibal coming to visit him. Will’s body is still hanging from the tree, skeleton all that was left after a year exposed to the elements. Hannibal did not go to the hanging, and he never came to claim Will’s body. He thought they would bury him, not leave him out like something worthless or common.

The entire mob stops as Will comes into view, a gasp echoes through the crowd followed by hushed apologies and sobs. Hannibal sees Will standing at the bottom of the tree, unnaturally pale and head cocked at a strange angle. His smile is gone and he stares balefully at Hannibal. He opens his mouth as the wind picks up but Crawford speaks first.

“Somebody give me a knife.” No one moves at first, “Give me a goddamn knife! We are not going to let him hang there any longer! He deserved better, he deserved to live.” Will watches impassively as Crawford snatches a knife out of someone’s hand and scales the tree with determination. Tears are flowing freely as Crawford calls for a blanket to put down underneath Will’s branch. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry.” The rope cuts easily and Crawford lowers Will’s bones gently until two men step forward to wrap him in the soft blanket. Hannibal notices the dog paw pattern and wonders if the blanket is some useless way to atone for Will’s death. Will walks over to his body and stares at it thoughtfully, head straightening and eyes growing dark.

As Will’s body is placed into a casket just his size and painted his favorite colors, Hannibal realizes that he has been known for quite a long time. _“They’ve known about you since Beverly, since my birthday._ ” Will is staring at him again, no longer a cadaver but the beautiful man Hannibal loved. “ _If you loved me, why did you let me die for what you did?_ ” Hannibal just stares at him longingly and begins to take his final steps towards the tree. Crawford is waiting for him with a noose and a block of wood to stand on that looks oddly new. He understands, they don’t want him to use anything Will used. They want to give Will that much. Beverly Katz, Will’s best friend, is standing beside him now. “ _Why her? Why did you kill her?”_

Hannibal can only smile in answer and whisper, “I didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday, dear William.” Crawford stares at him in disgusted confusion as he fixes the noose as tight as possible.

“Do you have any last words?” Hannibal shakes his head. He remembers hearing that all Will had said was _“I love you, Hannibal.”_

Hannibal steps of the wooden block as all of his victims bled out of the woods like the specters they are. Will looks peaceful, beautiful; he looks more rested than he had in the entire year since he had shown up in Hannibal’s dreams. Will looks angelic, Hannibal decides, and he finally realizes what he is so afraid of: he is going to have to spend the rest of eternity without Will. Hannibal’s vision is dimming quickly and he’s choking for every breath. His last words come out as a gasp, “ _I know.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any named characters in this story!
> 
> This was almost entirely based off of "The Hanging Tree" and I couldn't not have that ending line. I hope you enjoy(ed) this!


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